


Beyond Dumb Luck

by Red



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Anal Sex, Breasts, F/M, Families of Choice, Femdom, Friends to Lovers, Hotel Sex, Past Relationship(s), Queer Het, Safer Sex, Trans Female Character, Transgender, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red/pseuds/Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another old PWKM fill. Post-GS4, Phoenix is a little concerned about how Miles will feel about some scruffy disbarred dad. When she returns to America, Edgeworth reminds him that he isn't the only person in the universe undergoing a transition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Dumb Luck

**Author's Note:**

> Done back on part five of the PWKM. Thanks to the OP and those who commented--and much love to Canne De Bonbon for the [fanart of Miles](http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m217/cannedebonbon/art/MTFmiles.jpg), and to Attalander for the sequel involving The Graceful Art of Being Larry Butz, ["Hello, Gorgeous!"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/459395)

It had nearly meant slipping out on the fire escape to manage it. 

But if he'd learned anything in life, it was that no matter how impossible a situation seemed, it only took a bit of perseverance to get his way. And with Apollo momentarily turned around and Trucy only gone to her room 'for a second' after assigning Apollo to the task of watching him, Wright had bolted for the door. 

It didn't matter what the kids thought. Yes, he was going to the airport looking like this. And if they didn't like it, they could... 

Well, they _could_ catch up with him. Lucky for him, the bus was just pulling up to the stop as he ran alongside, and it was Sunday--another half-hour before the next one came by. Unless Trucy had shown some initiative with conjuring cars and learners' permits, he was free. 

Pulling his hat out from the pocket of his hoodie, he adjusted it haphazardly over his spikes. He had no clue how those two even figured out his history with Edgeworth--honestly, how incriminating could a couple of old court tapes be?--but when they'd heard that he was on his way to the airport to see his friend and former lover for the first time in seven years, they at his insistence on wearing the same old unwashed hoodie, the same old silly hat. "Really, Daddy. You aren't going to win anyone back looking like that," Trucy had said, before attempting to make his hat disappear for good. 

He supposed he would have had the same opinion, at their age. Maybe he would have cleaned up, decided to invest in a new razor, thought about doing a little more than sniffing all his sweatshirts to find the least-odorous one. But the fact was, given his past with Edgeworth, he felt putting forth more of an effort was the worst thing he could have done. 

Lazily watching the buildings go by, he remembered their last time together, the night before Edgeworth had moved back to Europe for what they both knew was for good. That night when, after years of frenzied sex in between preparing for cases and investigations, after months of arguments about what they were to one another, after they'd finally agreed to call it off and remain only friends, they realized they were in the last few hours to say goodbye.

So, one last fuck for the road, they'd thought. It was a clear night--he remembered the way Edgeworth looked, sweaty and contemplating him in the bright moonlight. Those words Edgeworth said, right before he went for his clothes, would stick with Wright, up to this point of neglecting to shave before meeting with his old friend.

_"Believe me, Wright, when I say--as much of a tiresome burden as your feelings have been--that I wanted this to work out at least as much as you did. But I still hardly know who I am. And, not to part by insulting you, but you hardly know who you are, either. We can't continue to define ourselves merely by our jobs and expect this ridiculous arrangement to work out._

_I'll still be finding what it means to be Miles Edgeworth, not a perfect prosecutor. Before you decide to saddle me with unnecessary emotions again, I suggest you find what you are. Beyond being an attorney with an inhuman amount of sheer dumb luck."_

So here he was. The guy beyond the attorney with a lot of dumb luck--and so what if, under all that, he was just a poorly-dressed dad with a lot of dumb luck? He was going as his usual self to see what the real Miles Edgeworth looked like, after years of only letters and emails. 

Once in the airport, however, he realized he wasn't exactly sure what to look for. Heck, for all the time he spent at the gate they'd agreed to meet at, watching travelers looking lost, neither did Edgeworth. Maybe leaving the hat off would have at least made for a quicker landmark... 

And suddenly, incongruously, there it was: that same smug, knowing grin; the same cocky stance. 

"Wright, that hat really is appalling."

"Edgeworth..." he trailed off, giving his friend a slow once-over. "...I like the glasses." 

For a brief moment, Edgeworth almost looked hurt, before Phoenix grinned and added in a lazily affectionate tone, "...Among other things."

Looking up with that old self-assured smirk, Edgeworth crossed her arms under what Phoenix had to admit was the most distracting rack he'd ever seen. 

"I should hope so," she said, needlessly adjusting her glasses, "They _were_ rather expensive." 

\---

Over dinner--Edgeworth's treat, as some people just refused to see the charm of reasonably priced noodles made in all-natural water--he made a valiant effort to keep his eyes on those designer frames and not... well, _elsewhere_... as he prodded at his salad.

Sure, he realized seven years was a long time to stick with the same style. But a cravat--or, hell, the judicious use of buttons--would really have been pretty welcome just then.

"I thought you didn't like salads," Edgeworth joked, not helping matters by purposefully leaning forward as she spoke, likely to see Wright's exasperated "do you _want_ me to get kicked out of this place?" look.

Funny, how comfortable it was to sit here and banter with Edgeworth, as if no time had passed, like nothing had changed at all. It was all the same insults, the same undertone of flirtation, the same horrified look from the waiters and Edgeworth whenever he lifted the wrong fork. Maybe his expectations were a little low after the whole "choosing death" stunt, but Wright wasn't even put out that Edgeworth had never once mentioned the sex change in all these years. 

After all, it wasn't like he'd _asked_.

Realizing he was staring again, he hastily countered, "Well, I've got to make up for the months of cold borscht somehow."

"Hmph. I do hope you've been feeding your daughter better than that..." Edgeworth paused, and, smirking, sat back in her seat, crossing her incredible (and they had always been incredible, but there was something about seeing her in stockings with seams that crippled the majority of his higher brain functions) legs.

"You know, Wright," she said conversationally, "it's not like I went out and bought double-Ds. If this is how you behave around a size C, I honestly can't fathom how you managed to work with Ms. Fey." 

Phoenix might have had the decency to blush seven years ago, but he just leaned back and rubbed the back of his head, laughing. "Hey, it's different. They look good on you, you look good--and besides, you're my type." 

Tilting her head and frowning a little, Edgeworth began, "Please, just because I was born physically..."

"No, no, that's not it, Edgeworth. I mean, unless you weren't paying very much attention at all in the last decade, you know I like playing outfield as much as I like to pitch. No, it's that you're the 'arrogant, smug, completely self-important while still managing to fight for truth and be incredibly hot' type."

Edgeworth frowned and looked away, blushing. 

"Wright, if you're going to make such clichéd metaphors in this establishment, you should at least _attempt_ to phrase them correctly."

\---

Edgeworth had insisted on getting a hotel room, and as Wright helped her with the luggage, he had to admit it was probably a good idea. Breasts or no, Edgeworth still packed as if the fall of capitalism were imminent, and there simply wasn't that much room at the Wright Anything Agency.

Besides, who was he to protest the opportunity to lounge on a couch in a hotel room with more than half a star? Phoenix flicked through the novelty that was cable, idly nursing his drink (and when was the last time he'd had a mixed drink, he wondered) as Edgeworth showered. Fastidious as ever, she'd claimed she'd be lucky if she didn't come down with the plague from 'that pestilence-ridden brat in the next row over' as it was, and excused herself immediately after warning Wright of the bleak future that awaited him should he try to order Pay-per-View. 

It was difficult to not sneak into that bathroom. But, even as self-assured as _he_ was, Phoenix just couldn't be certain of where he stood with Edgeworth. They may be flirting, but it felt like there never was a time when they weren't, even when they were on separate continents. Also, Edgeworth may have physically changed more than he in the past few years, but she was obviously very attractive and knew it. He, on the other hand... Perhaps it was asking too much, thinking Edgeworth would find some slobby poker player attractive. 

He rubbed a hand absent-mindedly over his jaw. Maybe he should have listened to the kids. Just a little shave wouldn't have hurt...

Fortunately, he was soon saved from his idle worries, as Edgeworth didn't take long. Unfortunately, she came out wearing only a hotel bathrobe tied just this side of decency, toweling her shoulder-length hair vigorously.

Phoenix swallowed and tried to keep his attention on the television, trying not to give Edgeworth another excuse to tell him to keep his eyes above her shoulders. Still... At least he felt reassured. There was flirting between them, and then there was _flirting_. A warm thrill of arousal and affection went through him as he remembered how much he loved that infuriating cocktease persona of Edgeworth's. 

"Alright, if you have any stupid questions, I'm temporarily fielding them," she said brusquely, leaving the towel draped around her shoulders as she turned and made a drink. 

Phoenix couldn't help staring at her legs as he considered what to ask. 

"How many questions do I get?"

She turned and smirked. "Counting the one you just wasted, you mean?" She shook her head and shrugged her arms in that familiar gesture Wright hadn't realized he'd missed. "You can have as many as you'd like to incompetently blunder through, Phoenix." 

He leaned forward and grinned. "I can manage in three, I think."

She gestured with her drink in a small motion that somehow conveyed, 'oh, go on, if you really think you're that great.'

"First, the letters always have a return of _Miles_ Edgeworth. Is that really still your name?"

Edgeworth snorted derisively. "What do you want, _Melissa_? Don't be absurd. Miles is a perfectly decent name. I managed to escape being renamed at the von Karma household, I'm not about to change what my father gave me." 

Yep, Edgeworth still looked adorable when she was indignant. He smiled in what he hoped was a placating manner, and quickly reassured, "And I'm sure it saved money on business cards, too." 

She sighed deeply and took a sip of her drink. "You do realize not everyone is as stingy as you, I hope."

Wright shrugged. "Poor working-class man like me, habits die hard. Anyway, question two." He looked blank for a moment as he chose the words. "Not to be vulgar..."

"Why stop now?" 

"Ha ha. Well, how... post-operative... are you?"

Looking from her drink up to Wright, Edgeworth shot him another shifty, incomprehensible smile. "I'm as _operative_ ," she mimicked, "As I'm going to get." 

Typical Edgeworth non-answer. Still, the last question was the most important, he thought, and he stated as such. Rubbing her arm nervously, Edgeworth prepared for what she was sure was going to be the end of all this flirtation. It was going to be the "Why didn't you tell me," or the "how long did you know?" or, worst, the awkward and painful "when did you decide," as if she were ever anything else than Miles Edgeworth, public prosecutor. 

Wright smiled broadly at her. "So, what are my chances of getting lucky tonight?" 

She tried not to look like she was having a heart attack. " _Wr-Wright_!" 

After he was done laughing like some feeble-minded idiot, as she put it, and after she had composed herself, she said evenly, "When you say things in that manner, I should say next to zero."

"But," she continued, amused by Wright's crestfallen expression, "if you come into the bedroom, I might be convinced to accept a plea bargain."

"What's wrong, too old to make out on the couch?" Wright tried as he eagerly clicked off the television and stood. 

"I was _always_ too old to make out on a couch, Wright," she growled, pulling Wright's hat off as she followed him, "It was your juvenile insistence that made afternoons at the Prosecutor's Office so memorable."

They were in the bedroom, Wright already was working on making up for nearly a decade of not licking Edgeworth's tonsils, when suddenly, to her surprise, he pulled back. She looked seriously at him. 

"Second thoughts?" she asked, almost succeeding at sounding completely detached.

"Nah," Wright said, shaking his head with an embarrassed grin. "I just need to use my cell."

"What... What for?"

"Hey, I just got Trucy in the habit of calling me when she's going to be late," he said, already pulling out his phone and dialing, "I'd hate to be a bad example." 

"Any worse than you already are, you mean," she groused as he turned to make the call. 

Facing the door as he was, Phoenix missed Edgeworth's expression, but he hoped he heard some affection in her critical tone. Despite that, once he was done speaking with Apollo (explaining in the most vague terms that he wouldn't be back until tomorrow; trying not to laugh when Apollo told him to stop _insinuating_ things, because wasn't it completely obvious what was going on?), he felt slightly bashful again as he hung up the phone and looked back over at Edgeworth. The situation did seem weird--come on, sexy international prosecutor, waiting around for a guy who lived in an office to finish talking to his kids?

He knew Edgeworth could see his uncertainty, but all she did was casually reach out, grab the pockets of his hoodie, and pull him roughly forward. 

"Are you done with all your distractions, Wright?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him, trying to look stern even as she unzipped the old sweatshirt.

Wright's breath caught. It'd been so long--too long--since he'd done this, and Edgeworth was still all single-minded determination, behaving as if sex was just one more thing she was perfect at and she fully expected Wright to follow along. God, that attitude was just as hot as it had been ten years ago. 

Between the two of them, they made quick work of Wright's clothes; Phoenix trying to hastily strew them on the ground, and Edgeworth putting forth a token struggle to get them folded. When he was naked, Edgeworth stopped and stared for a while, leaving Phoenix nervous and awkward as he just stood there. 

Eventually, her gaze snapped back up to his eyes. 

"Hmm, very nice. You've been running a few forgotten lunches up to departing buses, I see," she almost purred, before abruptly adding, "Well, Wright?"

"Yeah, those drivers are... Hey, wait. 'Well,' what?"

She just smirked. "Well, are you just going to stand there, groping for compliments? Because I assure you, I've exhausted my year's--Urk!"

Wright had toppled her back onto the bed, and, pinning her arms, he tried to look up from where the robe had slipped mostly off of her chest. "Is this acceptable, Ms. Edgeworth?" he asked, hoping the question didn't seem too directed at Edgeworth's breasts. 

In answer, Edgeworth took advantage of Wright's distraction and easily pushed against him, rolling him over onto his back to straddle him and hold him down. Phoenix shivered involuntarily beneath her as the robe brushed teasingly over his thick erection.

"Don't be so dismally heteronormative, Wright. Just because I have breasts doesn't mean you've suddenly become proficient at topping." 

Phoenix laughed and fought playfully against Edgeworth's grip, but he was immediately distracted from his attempt to get Edgeworth on her back by the way her breasts moved as she struggled to keep him pinned. He gave up and flopped back, relaxing under Edgeworth's panting, flushed body. 

She made a striking woman. More than a little broad-shouldered, sure, but as tall as she was, and with that distinctive silvery hair--and her skin smooth and pale over familiar lean muscle and unfamiliar smooth curves--she was honestly like some gorgeous, way-out-of-his-league, maybe-not-even-playing-the-same-sport European model. Ignoring Edgeworth's grumbling protest, Phoenix squirmed a hand free and ran it appreciatively over her shoulder, between those amazing breasts, and over her stomach to reach the tie of the robe. Untying it, he watched raptly as Edgeworth shook the fabric off. 

And he nearly died.

Edgeworth crossed her arms and scowled at Phoenix. "Wright. All this time, were you honestly _that_ distracted by my breasts? You do understand that's beyond pathetic."

Privately, he thought he deserved some credit. After all, at least he wasn't looking at the breasts now.

"I, uh... I thought you said--"

"With a winning streak as long as yours, I would think you'd have a better eye for details. What I said was that I've had all the operations I _personally_ require," Edgeworth said, before frowning worriedly down at Wright. "You... There's not a problem, is there?"

Phoenix was still at a loss for words, so, hands skimming gently down Edgeworth's hips, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. 

"Well, for starters, you haven't married me yet."

Grabbing Wright's hands and leaning over to pin his arms again, tilting her hips to grind against his, Edgeworth smirked. "I don't believe Trucy would appreciate having to change her last name a third time."

Laughing breathlessly, Phoenix thrust back up against her. He moaned contentedly into her possessive, biting kisses, sighed when she licked a path over his stubbly jaw to kiss the thin, sensitive skin behind his ear. He shuddered as her warm breath tickled his skin.

"Honestly, Wright. If you can manage to single-handedly overturn the justice system while being a single dad with a poor sense of personal hygiene, I can't see why being a woman with a penis is anything shocking."

Phoenix tilted his head to kiss her deeply, before whispering back, "Miles, I can't say much is 'anything shocking' to me anymore."

She shook her head with a muttered "no, I suppose not," before twisting slightly to reach over to the robe. With his hands free, he settled one hand on the curve of her hip, and slowly stroked her half-hard erection with the other. Turning back with the condom and lube she'd had hidden in the pocket (well, he thought, at least had always been a _prepared_ tease), she smiled apologetically. 

"Sorry, it ah--can take a bit," she explained. 

He couldn't help sitting up a little, to start kissing her breasts. "Mmm, I'd think so," he agreed absently, scraping his teeth lightly over the curve of her right breast, "A body like _this_ , you can't have too much testosterone going on in there." 

The hitch in her breath was audible as he twisted his hand to tease the head of her cock and bit her right nipple lightly. She thrust into his hand with a groan, threaded her fingers in those messy spikes as he licked the thin, pale line of the surgical scar below her breast. Despite her words, it actually didn't take long to find herself fully and intensely hard in Wright's hand. Finally being touched like this again, with Wright so earnestly and playfully eager, like the dolt was still twenty-four and acting like some virgin teenager, she was quickly beyond aroused. 

As he turned his attentions to her left breast--she would make fun of his enthusiasm later, she promised herself, but for now, she could only enjoy it--she squeezed some lube onto her fingers and slipped her hand between Wright's legs. He was tight, tighter than she remembered, but as she pushed a finger in him he just gave a low, contented moan against her chest. He drew his knees up to either side of her body, and spread his legs shamelessly to take the intrusion. 

She shivered at the display, and pulled shakily away from Wright's hand. 

"It'll take a while, huh?" he joked, before groaning brokenly as Edgeworth pushed a second finger in his ass. 

"Well, it's hard not to react to someone as shameless as _you_ , Wright," she said, pretending to glare at him even as she stroked teasingly over his prostate. As he moaned, he was smiling entirely too cockily for her tastes. 

"But more importantly," she quickly amended, "the Viagra has kicked in."

Wright laughed and reached up to muse her hair. "Romantic as ever, Edgeworth. Now, c'mon," he said, reaching for the condom, "I don't need all night."

She glared at him and shook her hair back, but she did pull her hand from him to sit back and watch as Wright ripped open the packet, and--hand teasing the whole way through--rolled the condom over her straining prick. 

Squirting a little more lube on her hand, she stroked it over her cock, rubbed a little more on Wright's ass, before leaning over him. Wright tilted his hips and curved his legs around her waist, and nearly stopped breathing as she inched slowly into his body. 

Once she was deep in him, for a moment they could only lay curled together, just gasping at the almost-forgotten sensation. Burying his face against her neck, Wright kissed her desperately, and whispered low and hot against her skin how much he'd missed her. Though she still felt his sentimentality was at best burdensome, she could only think of how deeply she returned the feeling; she could only wonder how she was forgetful enough to believe that Wright might stop wanting her just because of a few operations. How could she think _anything_ would make him lose that hopeless, stupid, puppy-like devotion? 

When Wright finally pressed impatiently against her, she began thrusting unevenly and shallowly at first, before her body remembered the old rhythm and began taking Wright in long, smooth strokes. Wright was again glad that Edgeworth had been so insistent on a hotel (realizing, a little belatedly, that this was probably her intention all along) as they were helplessly, embarrassingly loud, groaning and whimpering and panting noisily with every motion. 

Pressing back to meet Edgeworth's thrusts, Wright couldn't even spare a hand for his own dick, busy as he was cupping and stroking and just _not getting enough_ of those breasts. He kept trying to lean up and lay wet, open-mouthed kisses all across them, but it made the angle of Edgeworth's thrusts awkward, and she'd have to press him back against the mattress again.

"Wright," she hissed as he made for another breast-groping attempt, "You're... ah, that's perfect, you're so _tight_... I mean, ugh, you're being difficult." 

He shuddered beneath her as she pushed him down and was able to ruthlessly work his prostate again. "Edgeworth, shit..." he moaned breathily again as she pounded hard against him, "I... God, I can't help it." 

"Well, _try_ ," she growled, "I promise, you'll have plenty of time to enjoy the benefits of saline and modern science later. For now, just... let me--mmm, good, hold your leg just like that--for now just let me _fuck_ you." 

Although he managed to stay on his back for a few more hard, incredible thrusts, he soon found himself drawn back to the motions of Edgeworth's chest. As he leaned up again, preparing for Edgeworth's scowl, he suddenly realized the solution. 

Surging against her, he flipped Edgeworth over on her back. 

"Wright! What is the meaning--" she began angrily, before trailing off into a moan as he thrust back against her.

"Edgeworth, I can fuck myself," he said, "But I need to enjoy the miracle of saline _now_."

Resigning herself to Wright's obsession, she just made a token noise of disapproval before laying back, gripping Wright's shoulders as she thrust up into his grinding body.

As he screwed himself relentlessly on Edgeworth's dick, Phoenix buried his face against her chest, and cupped her breasts in his hands to press them close together, to rub them close against his face. Though her breasts weren't exactly sensitive, there was something embarrassingly yet undeniably erotic about seeing Wright go so completely _insane_ over them. Edgeworth just gripped him tighter, pressing him against her chest as she fucked up into him roughly.

Over-stimulated as he was and as long as it had been, it didn't take much more before Wright jerked above her, and--with a shout, with his cheek leaving stubble burn across her right breast, without a single touch to his own leaking cock--shudderingly came.

It'd been far too long for her, as well. The wild tensing of his body and the careless, sweaty final thrusts he managed as he shot against her smooth stomach were too much. She followed him with a soft groan. 

Panting, he slumped lazily against her. He could feel her annoyed huff as his hand 'accidentally' settled on her left breast, but apparently she found herself far too exhausted to do much more than wince as she pulled out, and grumble as she reached down to carefully remove the condom. With it discarded, Edgeworth tiredly nudged Wright to 'get his heavy ass off' her, and curled a leg around him when he yawned and settled at her side. 

He blinked at her sleepily. It was hard to make much of her out, now: night had fully fallen, and it was only a few nights out of a new moon. But he could see enough to to know how much happier she seemed, now; he could see that strange expression of smug affection, an emotion he'd only ever seen Edgeworth convey. He gave her a lazy, half-asleep kiss, complete with clumsily bumped noses. 

"'M serious, you know," he murmured. 

"What are you dithering about?"

"We should get married."

Awkwardly, she looked aside. "Wright--"

"I mean, I hear you get all kinds of things. Coffee makers, plates, televisions, new toasters... Could use a new toaster." 

"...Go to sleep."

\---

When he woke up, he was momentarily disoriented. Not his bed, check. Not his pillow, check. Not a pillow at all, but a rather nice pair of... 

He blinked, and looked up at Edgeworth, still softly snoring, her silvery hair tangled. 

In that moment, Phoenix Wright was fairly sure he was the luckiest man alive. He had two great kids, and never had to change diapers. He had the ability to get his badge back, and didn't have to take it. He had a sore ass, and these terrific...

Edgeworth hit him on the head, putting an end to his stubbly nuzzling. 

"For god's sake, Wright. I spent good money on those, do quit scratching them up."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hello, Gorgeous!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/459395) by [Attalander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attalander/pseuds/Attalander)




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